


Restoration

by fannishliss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Women of Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ficlet about Becky Warren 1.06, "Skin"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restoration

Becky Warren was used to the kind of men who have enthusiasms.  Sometimes they took up boating, and you got taken out for weekends up and down the coast. Sometimes they took up flying, and then you listened to their exploits over the outback or across the Alaskan wilderness.  Becky had known such men all her life. Their power and money gave them need for an outlet, an impressive hobby equal in intensity to the stressors of their everyday lives.

So when Sam Winchester appeared on her doorstep, offering help when her brother got in trouble, she thought it was a sweet gesture, just like Sam -- until he pulled up in the gleaming classic car.  Even before learning the whole truth about Sam, something about Dean and their car made her nervous.

This was not usual.  Men that she knew often owned such cars, graded by the quality of the professional restoration-- but this was something different.   The 1967 Chevrolet Impala was not a car often chosen by amateur impresarios, who usually selected cars that had started off  expensive and luxurious the second they rolled, often in limited editions, off the line -- not loud-engined, mass-produced, four-door family cars.   Yet this Impala gleamed and purred as though a master had restored it.  And Sam had never mentioned even caring about cars -- mentioning guardedly that his family were next to drifters.

Afterward, Becky would think back to the moment when the car roared up, and she would pin that moment as the point when she realized that Sam had been hiding something. He was not really the man she thought she knew. Even after the brother -- (though it was hard to discern the brother from the monster) -- cleaned up the mess, shot his double in the chest, cleared her own brother and roared away to the tune of classic rock -- Becky knew the brother was something different than what Sam had claimed, different than what Sam thought he knew.  Men who could recognize quality, bring it shimmering to the surface, were something more than busy rich men in need of a hobby, an impressive collection.

The double, a monster, had spoken from Sam's brother's heart, and Becky understood that although it had twisted what it saw there,  Dean yearned for something.  Unlike the men with their perfected automobiles gleaming severally in their garages, Dean was a fighter, and he fought for that shine, that beauty, for the truth even when it was ugly. He yearned, Becky thought, for approbation, a home, a friend...  or he would settle for anyone who'd look him in the eye and say, You're all right. Good work.  You're one of us.


End file.
